


Metamorphosis (Beneath the Skin)

by Eriso



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriso/pseuds/Eriso
Summary: Season 3 spoilers!Change hurts, but sometimes there's no other choice.





	Metamorphosis (Beneath the Skin)

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished Season 3 and wow. I loved it but OUCH, it hits hard. So I sat down to write a nice relaxing fix-it to ease the pain, and this happened instead. 
> 
> A quick piece following Jim's decision to use the elixir, because that was such a powerful scene and I have way too many feels about it that I don't know what to do with.

Jim has known for months now that his life is not his own.

 

It is not a realization that has come easily. It is in the little things; whispers behind closed doors in Trollmarket, slipping grades at school, Toby and Claire exchanging meaningful glances whenever they think he isn’t looking. It has crept up on him, hiding in the shadows, while he has been out trying to live fully in both worlds, clinging to what he once had. He has done his homework. He has attended his classes. He has trimmed his nails and swept away the clippings and taken out the trash.

 

He has been afraid.

 

Somewhere along the way he has grown too big for this human skin. Now it is cracking open; tearing apart, and there’s no more hiding beneath it.

 

_he is coming apart at the seams_

He belongs to the trolls, and one day he will die for them. There can be no planning for a carefree human future; no matter how well he does in school there can be no college afterwards, no stable career. He has imagined dying before, passing in his sleep perhaps, surrounded by family: a loving partner on one side, children on the other. Perhaps a cluster of grandchildren, playing in the sun. All the things he can never have.

 

_skin splitting, hands clenching,_

 

It is the little things he must hang on to.

 

Toby’s laugh, joyful and generous and filled with humanity. His steadfast grin. They’ve been in over their heads from the very start but Toby has never let him down. Toby knows him, back to front, can read him like a book. Sometimes he says the wrong thing anyway, but Jim loves him all the more for it, because he knows how hard Toby tries, how deeply he cares.

 

The wind crisp and sharp against his face as he rides his Vespa.

 

His mother’s grin when he makes pancakes. Her encouragement. Her wit and her courage and the knowledge that she will always love him, no matter what. He has lied to her time and again, but she will never turn her back on him. He thinks of her passion for her work and her commitment to helping people; the strain on her face after a long shift that she brushes away like dust to keep him from worrying. She has always been his hero.

 

The clanking of pots and pans as he cooks, a special kind of music.

 

Arrrgh’s hugs, engulfing him in comfort and reassurance. He’s sturdy and reliable and never forgets to enjoy the little things in life, even though he’s seen the darkness the world has to offer. When he talks, the words rumble like a small earthquake.

 

The glowing pride in Blinky’s face when he spars with

 

Draal-

 

_no, don’t think of that, hurts too much_

_think of_

 

Claire.

 

He thinks of her happy, the way her whole face lights up and makes him want to smile too. The way the corners of her eyes crease, the way her shoulders soften. He remembers Claire’s hand in his; warm, steady and calloused from hours of training with her staff. Of Claire’s face, tight with fear. The way her eyebrows set with determination, even in terror. Of her sweat-soaked and exhausted after a fight. Dirt under her fingernails, blood on her face. 

 

Sitting quietly together in her room, enjoying one another’s company. He remembers the curve of her back and the way her eyelashes catch the light. He remembers admiring the tiny hairs on her forearms, and the way the tip of her nose lifts slightly when she talks. Those stolen moments where he can almost forget about his duty as Trollhunter, about the noose around his neck, and just be Jim. She lets him feel normal in the midst of chaos.

 

And when she looks at him, he can always see absolute faith in her eyes, perfect and total.

 

_taste of rot in his mouth_

 

He clings to these things, desperately - even as blackened, spidery fingers dip into his chest and claw at his soft, liquid core.

 

But he is afraid.

 

_probing fingers, violating, taking more than he has to give_

 

Is this what it is to drown? Nerves falling silent, letting go; he is broken and he is hollow and he is

 

He is fire and ice. He is an empty shell. He is scooped up and hollowed out and turned to ash, over and over. He is a ragged doll, a tattered cloth, a heart pounding in a vacuum. He is ripped apart and torn to shreds and _remade,_ and it hurts, _oh,_ it _hurts,_ but there never was a choice, really, was there? Because he will always do whatever it takes to keep them safe, will let every thread of who he is unravel, over and over, even if it hurts, even if it feels like _dying-_

 

_there was never a choice_

 

And finally, he is sloughing away the dead skin. It does not fit him anymore, after all. He casts it away, and the action is liberating. His veins fill with stone. He is not quite human, and not quite troll, and that is as it should be, isn’t it?

 

_he never wanted this_

 

As he realized long ago, his duty is to die.


End file.
